Don't Wait 'Til Tomorrow
by doc100
Summary: What happens if things don’t go quite as you plan. How much do you regret missed chances? Takes place during the Paraguay arc.
1. Chapter 1

**Don't Wait 'Til Tomorrow** by doc

_This story was written for a challenge ficathon. The prompts, submitted by readers, were from the dialogues of their favorite movies. The story's main theme was based on one of the submitted prompts, but I also utilized several other submitted movie quotes within the text of this tale. The primary prompt is included in this author's note, but the remaining five quotes will be noted in their entirety at the end of the story, so as not to spoil or reveal the plot._

_**Main Prompt: "**__Me? I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of what I saw, I'm scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you!" (From the movie 'Dirty Dancing') _

_**A/N: **__This story takes place during the Season 9 episode 'A Tangled Webb, Part 2.' For the purpose of this story, although Webb is injured at the hand of Sadik, it is not as severely as portrayed in the actual episode. I know the Paraguay arc has been rewritten a million times, and perhaps folks have grown weary of the attempts to fix and patch, but please if you will, humor me with yet another. This story takes place after the second conversation between Harm and Mac in the hotel suite._

_**Summary: **__What happens if things don't go quite as you plan. How much do you regret missed chances?_

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_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own JAG or any of the characters. I just take them out and play with them on occasion before replacing them safe and sound back on the shelf._

_Special thanks to Mom, my faithful finder and keeper of all things related to spelling and grammar__._

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**Don't Wait 'Til Tomorrow**

**Chapter 1**

03:30

Harm & Mac's Room

Hotel Nuevo Simpatico

Ciudad Del Este

Paraguay

Mac tossed and turned futilely chasing after that unattainable illusion of uninterrupted sleep. Peaceful, dreamless, restorative. HOPELESS! She tossed the blankets aside and burrowed further into her pillow, trying to block out all traces of light, fighting against all odds to erase the horrifying images and the accompanying memories. She lay perfectly still, concentrating all of her energy on the simple task of breathing…in and out…in and out…the images one by one disappeared morphing instead into indistinguishable sounds. Overwhelming cries of fear, bloodcurdling screams of pain, shouts of anger…evil, vile, possessive…hate, it seemed wore so many faces. She sat upright in bed, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat and shaking in the chilly morning air. Tossing her legs over the side, she clutched her pillow to her chest, suffocating her face in the downy softness, and cried silently for all she'd witnessed and lost over the last few weeks.

Emotions finally back under control for the time; she cast the pillow aside and crept silently toward the bathroom to rinse away the tear streaks trailing down her face. Task accomplished, she took wary stock of her features in the mirror, and tried to remember the last time she'd successfully slept through the night. She had to admit it was ages ago, long before the current botched foray into this cesspool of a foreign land. Running a finger along the dark circles ringing her eyes, she sighed in resigned defeat. No the events of her life as played out amongst close family and friends had not been the fodder of restful slumber and fairytale dreams of late.

Dabbing the towel gently across her bruised right cheekbone, she noted the cuts and abrasions were healing well and marveled that her external scars were minor compared to those tormenting her soul. She wiped away the stray water drops spotting the counter then carefully folded the towel over the bar. Glancing back into the mirror, she ran her fingers through her limp lifeless hair and noticed it lacked its usual luster and shine. Tugging away at the ends, she realized it was long past due for a style and cut. Her fingers traveled up along her neck, across the angle of her jaw, to her chin and lips. The normally supple skin was rough, cracked and dry. Her tongue slipped out automatically in a self-conscious move, sliding across her chapped lower lip, while her teeth nervously picked away in a repetitive anxious manner. She frantically searched through the small toiletry bag purchased in haste earlier that day. Tossing aside the bottle of foundation and a compact of blush, she finally located the tube of lipstick. As she traced the make-up over her lips, her hand shook violently smearing the pink gloss in a bizarre haphazard fashion beyond the normal outline of her mouth. She tossed the lipstick aside, frantically groping for a tissue and scrubbed away the frenzied result. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror with disgust, the voices once again returned…

'_I'd forgotten how beautiful you are.'_ She shook her head in scoffing disdain.

'_Stand up, woman! You defile motherhood!'_ The tears appeared again, threatening to overflow.

'_I just hope to hell for his sake that he fares a little better than your various husbands and boyfriends.'_ Clay's battered face flashed before her eyes followed closely by his gut-wrenching screams of pain. She closed her eyes trying to banish the terrifying memory.

'_Anyone who has ever been involved with Mac is either dead or feels like they are.'_ The tears overflowed as she sunk to the floor clutching her knees to her chest. Clay's face morphed first to Dalton's then to Chris'.

'_You resign your commission, travel 5,000 miles to find me, and damn near get killed.'_ Her mind's eye fixated on his lifeless body slumped over the plane._ 'Get killed…get killed…get killed.'_

'_Anyone who has ever been involved with Mac is either dead or feels like they are.'_ Her head dropped forward onto her knees as she wept, but the undeterred voices continued on and on.

'_You resign your commission…why?'_

'_I think you know why.'_

'_Why?'_

'_You can have him. Hope he fares better…'_ She rocked back and forth on the cold tile floor; hands gripping her ears, as she tried desperately to close the voices out.

'_It was nice to have someone who states his intentions…that follows through.'_

'_Mac, can we, ah…table this 'til some other time?'_

'_Yeah sure…'_

'_You can't let go.'_

'_Not yet.'_

'_Eternity.'_

'_Is that how long we're going to wait?'_

'_Not yet.'_

'_Would you give up your girlfriend?'_ Silence and emptiness closed in, crushing her within the confines of the small room.

'_Can we table this discussion 'til some other time?'_

'_Yeah, sure.'_

'_Not yet.'_

'_Eternity.'_

'_Because I'm in love with him.'_

'_Wait…As long as it takes…Not Yet'_

'_Anyone involved feels dead…Damn near get killed…Fare better.'_

'_Table this discussion.'_

'_Not Yet…Some Other Time.'_

SILENCE

She looked up with stunned clarity for the first time in a very long time. Why hadn't she understood before? It was all so clear.

"Stupid!" Her voice echoed in the empty room. "All this wasted time," she muttered and reached for a tissue to wipe her eyes.

Gathering the cosmetics from the counter, she tossed them into her toiletry bag, along with her toothbrush, shampoo and shower gel. She opened the bathroom door and peered into the dim hotel room. Allowing her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, she crossed to the windows and quietly inched open the draperies, allowing the soft moonlight to illuminate the room. She paused in her movements, when Harm stirred in his sleep, rolling from his back to his side away from the faint light now bathing across his face. As he settled once again, she quietly opened the bureau and closet, retrieving the rest of her meager things; now more than thankful, they'd purchased very little on their shopping excursion that day. They were both too busy bickering and trading clumsy barbs intended to sting and joust more than mortally wound, one-upmanship at its very best.

Satchel now packed, she set it down by the hotel room door and went off in search of writing implements. Coming up empty at both the bureau and her bedside table, she was just about to head to the front lobby desk, when she thought to check the table nearest him. Sliding the drawer part way open, it creaked and groaned on the poorly oiled hinges, and Harm shifted once again.

"Maaac?" he muttered softly still buried within the depths of slumber.

"Go back to sleep," she faintly whispered.

He rolled onto his back, his breathing settling into a soft snore once more. She studied him in the moonlight, her fingers aching to trace the new lines creasing his brow, to soothe away the cut on his forehead, or smooth the cowlick in his hair. She caught her fingers before they could act of their own volition, and returned to the task at hand. She settled into one of the chairs at the small table by the window and worked by the light of the moon. She struggled with the wording, tore up the page and started again. She watched the occasional person milling about on the street below and wondered about their activities at this early hour of the morn. Finally, she slipped the letter into an envelope, wrote his name across the front, and propped it up on the tabletop.

Gathering her jacket from the foot of the bed, she slipped it over her arms, then let her fingers trail lightly over the mounded impression of his feet in the blankets. She glanced once more at his sleeping form then picked up her satchel, opened the door and walked out into the night.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:**__ I want to thank each of you for the wonderful reviews and the kind gesture of welcoming me back! This story is a bit of a departure for me, as it's my first attempt at dabbling in a new genre. Hopefully it winds up being more of a success than a blunder!_

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**Chapter 2**

07:45

Harm & Mac's Room

Hotel Nuevo Simpatico

Ciudad Del Este

Paraguay

Harm awoke with a start from his first decent stretch of sleep in weeks. After they'd returned from their late night meeting with Captain Molina regarding Maria Elena's death, he'd been too exhausted to go another round with Mac. Instead, he'd dropped into bed, rolled over and drifted off to sleep. He didn't know if it was the culmination of weeks of sleepless nights brought on by his stint in the brig, the unending nightmares of Mac's disappearance, their tumultuous 20-rounds the day before, or just having her close by and safe, but something had finally done the trick. He sat up and stretched, while peering around the room in search of his wayward partner. In the light of a new day, and with a little more sleep under his belt, he figured the quicker they got this screwed-up mission of Webb's concluded, the quicker they could get back to their normal routine and set things straight. After all, he and Mac had been down this road before, and while things might be tense for a while, it always… Well, it just always. That's the way they were, and forever would be.

He tossed the blankets aside and strode toward the bathroom. Knocking on the closed door, he softly called out, "Mac? Hey, you in there?"

He waited a few seconds, before trying again, "Listen, I know you're probably still ticked at me for yesterday, but we promised to meet Webb and Gunny for breakfast at 08:30. I'd like to hit the shower before we head down."

He paused outside the door, still waiting for a response.

"Come on, Mac! Can't we put aside our differences until we get back home? I promise once we complete the mission…" he leaned more heavily on the closed door, and it immediately give way.

"Man on deck!" He announced, while slowly pushing the door aside. When the door had open sufficiently to stick his head inside, he peeked around the corner, "Mac?" Again finding no sign of her, he opened the door completely and walked into the room. He searched the tub, behind the door and shower curtain, then completely puzzled re-entered the hotel room proper.

"Mac?" He called out into the empty room. He hastily tossed open the closet door and looked out onto the veranda, again finding no sign of her. Figuring she'd gone down early for food or coffee, he sighed in frustration and quickly grabbed his clothes, heading for the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the bath and glanced into the mirror over the bureau. He tore off the wads of tissue littering his face and tossed them into the trash. In his haste to finish, he had nicked himself several times while shaving. He pounded his palm into the bureau and inhaled deeply, trying to calm his tumultuous nerves.

"Damn her," he cursed the empty room, "…doesn't she know how dangerous it is for her to wander off around here without back-up. I'm going to chew her a new one when I get my hands on her."

He kicked the leg of the bureau for good measure, hoping to blow off some steam, before they had another unseemly encounter over breakfast. That was just what Webb needed to observe. He bet the spook would love seeing them go at it again. He walked over to the window and peered down at the crowds gathered outside by the hotel portico. Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was nearly time to meet Webb and turned to leave the room. It was then he noticed the envelope addressed to him. He lifted it from the table and dropped heavily onto the bed. He immediately recognized her handwriting, and his hand trembled as he released the back seal. Without reading a single word, he already knew she was gone. He could feel it in the cold chill engulfing his soul, much as his nightmare had predicted her capture just days before.

_Dear Harm,_

_I can't say this is how I thought things would end, although I guess 'end' isn't quite the right word in this case. While my long held dreams for our future might have come to an abrupt closure, when faced with the blinding light of reality, that doesn't mean that our relationship long built on friendship has to come to the same end. You once told me, what you wanted most was never to lose me, and I promised you, even way back then, that would never happen. To this day, I remain true to my word. You are now and will always be my dearest friend._

_My one problem at this moment is that I feel so much more for you than just friendship, and it seems as if I always have…forever and eternity. Funny how my interpretation of that word, 'eternity,' is so much different than yours. You see…that's how long I want to love you, not how long I want to wait._

_After our discussion last night, I finally understood what you've been trying to tell me all this time in your indirect, bumbling way. With all your 'Not Yet's,' 'I think you know why's,' and 'Tabling of Discussions,' you were simply trying to tell me 'no,' but in a kinder, gentler way._

_I can't say I'm not disappointed, even hurt and perhaps, a little embarrassed. But as the saying goes: 'You don't choose who you love.' And 'the people who you love don't always love you back.' It is within this context that I'm afraid I need a little space to gain some perspective. I will be contacting Webb regarding my further involvement on this mission. Once through, I will be returning to D.C. just long enough to accept and process a transfer. I was given new orders just before I left on this assignment, with my decision due upon my return. The transfer is long overdue and the position a good stepping-stone for my career. I wasn't sure of my decision before I left, but my eyes are wide-open now. I think this will afford me the distance I need to put our friendship back in perspective. A friendship, which I hope to treasure and maintain for the rest of my life._

_Wish me well in these changes, my friend. And please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I'll take all the good wishes and courage I can come by. This future course charted for me, one without you standing by my side…I have to be honest; it scares me to death! Somewhere along the way in these past 8 years, I learned to depend on you. I think I forgot how to just be 'me,' all by myself._

_Scared? Me?_

_All right, I'll admit it, particularly after what I experienced on this mission. Right now, it feels like I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of what I saw, I'm scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you!_

_But I guess it's time I find my own two feet again. Sarah MacKenzie needs to find herself! No more Butch and Sundance. No more Caped Crusaders. No more Musketeers._

_One more thing, I want to thank you for coming to Paraguay for me. I know what the Navy means to you. This sacrifice just demonstrates what a great friend you are...ever true to your word, you surely meant to never lose me. I promise to speak to the Admiral on your behalf. Seeing as he's about to lose yet another senior attorney, I can't imagine he won't take you back._

_I wish you all the best my dear friend, and hope for nothing but happiness for you. We'll keep in touch, right? Of course, we will! Fair Winds and Following Seas, my dear sailor._

_All My Love,_

_Sarah_

Harm stared at the letter in stunned silence, shaken to his core by its message. She hadn't understood at all…not once, ever. All their conversations over the years, they might as well have been speaking in tongues.

The phone ringing in the background roused him from his thoughts, and he jumped to quiet the interfering annoyance.

"Hello," he barked, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other with pent up anxiety.

"Yeah, on my way…be right down," he hung up the receiver with more force than necessary.

He paused a moment to consider the letter again, then placed it back in the envelope. He opened the bureau drawer to store the personal correspondence for safekeeping, and noticed for the first time that all of Mac's things were missing. He slammed the drawer shut and rapidly moved from the closet to the bathroom, again not finding a single personal item belonging to her. It made perfect sense, he mused, but the finality of her absence only served to unnerve him even more. He glanced around the bathroom looking for any small item she might have left behind. He frantically searched the drawers of the vanity, the ledge of the tub, the wastebasket. He found it wadded in the corner, a simple tissue tossed aside. It was smudged with her pink lipstick. He smoothed the tissue flat with the gentlest of care, lest it shred on contact. He folded it, then folded it again and again, until it fit perfectly inside the envelope, protected beside her letter.

He slipped the envelope into the pocket of his shirt. And after a thorough sweep for any other discarded clues, he exited the room with a determined stride in search of her.

***

08:50

Restaurant Veranda

Hotel Nuevo Simpatico

Ciudad Del Este

Paraguay

Harm immediately spotted Webb sitting on the far side of the restaurant off by the back banister of the veranda. Clay and Gunny were huddled together deep in conversation over coffee and pastries. Apparently, they had decided to order breakfast long before he had arrived. He waved off the maitre de and began scanning the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mac. If he could intercept her, whisk her away from the interfering duo; maybe he'd stand a chance of righting this misunderstanding before it spiraled completely out of control.

He had just finished scrutinizing the restaurant patrons and was preparing to flee toward the lobby, when Gunny called out, "Sir! Commander, over here!"

He grumbled unpleasantly under his breath, as he made his way over to their table. "Morning Gunny," he nodded. "Webb," he tried to control his petulant sneer.

"Harm," Webb smiled in cool reply, "…I know you're out of the Navy now, but isn't 9:00 a.m. a little late in the morning for a working breakfast…even for you."

Harm pulled out one of the empty chairs situated directly across the table from his main irritant and dropped none to gracefully into it. He reached for the carafe of coffee, pouring a generous cup of the strong hot brew. He downed the entire cup, eyes darting everywhere but on his companions, before daring to answer the obnoxiously pompous spook.

"Webb," he snarled back, "…I'm only going to ask this once. Where is she?"

"Where's who?" The agent reached for another slice of multi-grained toast and aloofly buttered the bread.

"You know darn well who!" Harm barked in aggravation. It was all he could do not to reach over and drag the annoying man across the table by his expensive starched collar.

"Rabb, I have no idea who you're talking about," Clay pierced a large piece of pineapple from the fresh fruit salad on his plate and raised it to his lips. "The only personnel I'm aware of are you, me, Gunny and…" he glanced around the restaurant. "Rabb, where's Sarah?"

"Very funny," Harm chuckled humorlessly, "…that's what I was just asking you."

"Why would you be asking me about Sarah's whereabouts?" Clay's prior condescending tone was now noticeably reduced.

Harm leaned forward over the table, pointing an accusing finger directly at the man's face, "Because, she left me a note stating that she was contacting you about the mission."

"But I don't understand," Clay frowned in confusion, "…why would she leave you a note. Why didn't she just come with you this morning? I thought we agreed…" He stopped mid sentence when Harm's gaze drifted off in the opposite direction. "You two got in a fight again, didn't you, Rabb?!"

When Harm didn't answer, or even acknowledge his question, Webb continued on more insistently. "Rabb! RABB! Where's MacKenzie?!"

"I don't know! Okay? I don't know," he dropped his head. "She came back to the hotel room last night after we met with Captain Molina."

"Then you had a fight!" Clay tossed his napkin onto the table.

"No! Nooo, we didn't even say a word to each other. Sure we had some words earlier in the evening, but that was before we met with Molina. When we came back after that meeting, we just went to bed. We were both exhausted. I practically feel asleep before my head hit the pillow."

"So, where's Mac?" Clay's voice softened further, sensing the other man's distress.

Harm shrugged his shoulders, as he distractedly nibbled on a piece of dry cinnamon toast. "Don't know…I thought she was with yooou," the last word stuck in his throat as he tried unsuccessfully to swallow the cloying dry bread.

Clay rolled his eyes, "Rabb, you and Mac left me unconscious in a hotel room with Gunny last night. Why in the world…"

"'Cuz she was gone this morning when I woke up, and she left a note stating she was going to contact you!" Harm pushed away from the table with such force that his chair fell over backwards crashing onto the tile patio. "Obviously, you don't know a damn thing…like usual! I'm going back to the lobby to ask…"

"Rabb, sit down!" Clay said with barely controlled vehemence.

Harm glared at the agent with deadly force, "Look, don't you…"

Clay finally held his hands up chest high in a conciliatory fashion, "We'll figure it out together." The agent glanced around the restaurant, "Now, let's try not to make a scene. We don't know who's watching…"

"I don't give a damn…" Harm waved him off and turned to walk away.

"Sir," Gunny stood up to block Harm's escape, "…maybe you should listen for a minute. I'm sure there's a logical explanation here. I don't know what happened, but the Colonel probably just got a room in the hotel for the night."

"That's what I'm going to find out, Gunny." Harm placed a hand on the younger man's arm to brush him aside, "Now, if you'll just let me head to the lobby."

"And ask for whom, Harm?" Clay quirked an apologetic brow.

Harm sat down hard, "I don't know." He shook his head helplessly then dropped it into his hands. "I don't know…I don't even know who to ask for, or how to begin to find her. I…I…I have no idea…I just don't know where…"

"What exactly did she say, Harm?" Clay tried again, this time in a more understanding tone.

Harm sighed heavily, "The note said that she would contact you about further instructions, and when her part of the mission was complete that she planned to return to D.C."

"I'm not sure I understand," Clay shook his head in confusion, "…but I promise you she hasn't contacted me yet. Maybe she plans to meet us here for breakfast or back at the room later this morning."

"Maybe," Harm mumbled without any conviction, "…it's just that I have this feeling…"

"Sir?" A member of the hotel staff approached the table at that exact moment and waited patiently to be acknowledged.

"Yes," Clay responded impatiently, upset at the inopportune interruption, "…what is it?"

"Sir, I have this package for you," the bellhop offered a plain brown box.

Clay reached for the parcel, "Who sent it?"

"No senor," the bellhop shook his head, "…not for you, sir." He looked at Harm and nodded, "The package is for you, senor."

"Me?" Harm warily extended a hand, accepting the nondescript box and offered the bellhop a tip. "Do you know who sent it?"

"Yes sir, a man dropped it off very early this morning. He specifically told the hotel staff to give it to you at breakfast, and not before."

Harm's eyes darted back and forth from the box to the bellhop, "Do you know the name of this man?"

"No senor," the bellhop bowed his head, "…he did not leave a name, just instructions to give you this package this morning at breakfast."

"Can you describe him?"

"No sir, I wasn't on duty at the time. Perhaps, you could ask the staff working at the front desk tonight," the young man shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, senor…I have no more information."

"Of course, thank you," Harm nodded in reply.

"You're welcome, senor," the bellhop bowed slightly, then quickly turned and walked away.

Harm set the box atop the table and just stared at it for several long moments. He ran a finger over the brown shipping paper neatly wrapping the package. Lifting it in his hands, he gently shook the box from side to side. The contents shifted softly, but there were no loud clanking noises suggestive of heavy contents, such as metal or glass.

"What do you think it is, sir?" Gunny asked the obvious.

"I have no idea," Harm tossed the box back on the table.

"Why would anyone leave a package for you?" Clay reached for the box, and turned it over, studying the tape securing the back. "How do we even know it is for you? There's no name or address, no return label or sender information."

"I don't know, Webb!" Harm's frustration grew by leaps and bounds, "Maybe it's from Hardy!"

"Why would Hardy send you a box through the hotel staff," Clay scoffed, "…and in the middle of the night no less?"

Harm grabbed the box from Webb's grasp, "Give it to me! Let's just open it and find out."

"Do you think that's wise?" Clay challenged incredulously with a raised brow, "I mean look where we're at, and who we're dealing with…for all we know it could be a bomb!"

Harm shook the box again, "I highly doubt that, Webb. Besides, do you have a better idea? It's not like we have CIA back-up here!"

Harm slid a fingernail under the tape securing the back flap. The brown shipping paper tore loose easily revealing a shirt-sized white gift box. He set the box on the table and gently raised the lid. Inside rested a plain white envelope atop crossed sheets of generic white tissue paper. Harm carefully lifted the envelope and removed the single sheet of heavyweight stationary. His eyes grew wide as he quickly read then discarded the single page. Ripping the tissue paper aside, he briefly stroked a finger over the embroidered lace then lifted the article from the box. Almost as if burned, he immediately dropped it to the ground and lurched for the railing of the back banister. He retched as wave after wave of nausea hit him, causing him to vomit the black coffee and dry toast ingested from his meager breakfast just moments before.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:**__ Well, it looks as if some folks don't appreciate a good "action/adventure" storyline, LOL! My reader base seems to have diminished considerably compared to my usual relationship/romance/family stories. Of course, I never said there wouldn't be romance, now did I? Maybe?? Maybe not??? Oh well, on with the story…_

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**Chapter 3**

Gunny jumped from his seat on the opposite side of the table, hurdling Harm's overturned chair, and ran to assist his friend. He stood helplessly by his side, as the proud Naval officer hugged the railing gasping for breath, as wave after wave of emesis rolled over his body. Gunny rubbed the taller man's back with one hand, while motioning for a glass of water with the other. When he received no response from Webb, Gunny glanced back to the table to find Webb clutching a petite white t-shirt in his hands. Gunny finally gave up on the agent, and turned his attention back to Harm.

"Sir?" Gunny called softly, but received no reply. Waiting several seconds, he tried again. "Sir, what was in the box?"

Harm glanced up, his face ghostly white, tears in his eyes. "Ma…Maac…Mac's shirt…blooood…"

"Sir," Gunny took a deep breath and tightened his hold on the wobbly senior officer. "Sir, come sit back down."

"No," Harm shook his head, "…can't."

"But sir, we need to find out…"

"That bastard!" Harm reared up unexpectedly, "I'll kill him!"

Gunny glanced warily from Harm to Webb and back again, "Sir, it's not Mr. Webb's…"

"Not Webb, Gunny! Sadik!" The color returned rapidly to Harm's face, and with it, the fire in his eyes. "If it's the last thing I do, I swear I'll kill him!"

"Sir, I don't understand," Gunny shook his head, perplexed by the ricocheting emotions displayed by the man before him, "…what does Sadik…"

"He took her!" Harm pushed forward out of Gunny's grasp and charged toward the table, "Webb, I swear…"

Gunny lunged after him, grabbing the taller man's arms and pinning them behind his back, "Sir, you need to calm down!"

"The hell I do!" Harm thrashed violently against the younger man, as members of the hotel staff rushed their way, toward the commotion.

Webb sat numbly at the table grasping the garment and muttering, "I don't understand…how did he get her? How did he get access? I don't understand how…"

"You don't understand!" Harm screamed ferociously, "You're the bastard who brought her down here…"

The hotel manager arrived at the table just at that moment, "Gentlemen, do we have a problem here?"

"No sir," Gunny shook his head, and ever so slightly relaxed his grip on Harm. "We just received some unfortunate news about an acquaintance, senor. I'm afraid my friends and I didn't react so well to the news. I promise we won't cause any further commotion." Gunny used one hand to upright the fallen chair, and forcefully eased Harm down into it with the other. "See…no more trouble, senor," Gunny smiled disarmingly.

"Very well, sir," the manager nodded with a warning glare, "…but if you disturb our other patrons, I'm afraid I will have to insist that you leave."

"We understand, senor," Gunny nodded back, "…Gracias."

"De nada, buenos días, senor," the manager and his staff turned on their heels and briskly walked away.

Gunny waited until the hotel staff was out of earshot, before asking any further questions. He then glanced at the other two men brooding at the table. Harm and Webb were each eyeing the other cautiously, but neither one spoke. Gunny finally reached for the stationary sheet discarded by the wayside on the table and began to read.

Webb held up the t-shirt in his hands, "How do you know this is even hers, Rabb?"

Harm possessively jerked it out of his hands, "Because she was wearing it last night."

Harm looked away from the agent, refusing to acknowledge his presence. His hands trembled as he gently smoothed away the wrinkles from the white cotton knit t-shirt. He carefully folded the shirt in half, hiding away the heart-wrenching evidence of foul play. His fingers shook violently, as they tripped along the eyelet lace stitched around the scooped neckline. He remembered her wearing it to bed last night, her skin soft and inviting above the ruffles of the lace. He had wanted to touch her, to run his fingertips over that little patch of forbidden temptation calling out to him from above the lace. He had wondered if her skin was as soft as it appeared. Had it tasted as sweet as he imagined? Now he would never know. And someone needed to pay. Someone!

"Sir?"

His eyes grew wild with unbridled rage and unrestrained intensity. His nostrils flared. He'd find him. Hunt him down, stalk him like a deranged animal, if it was the last thing he ever did, he swore…

"Sir!" Gunny's voice finally pierced his vengeful musings.

Harm looked up at the younger man; angry storm clouds gathering within the depths of his steel grey eyes, "What is it, Gunny?"

"It's just that…I was wondering um, sir…well…"

Harm rubbed a hand roughly over his face, "Spit it our, Gunny…I'm fast losing patience!"

"It's just that," Gunny's eyes flicked away for a moment then darted back, "…how do we know that Sadik has the Colonel, sir?"

"This is her shirt," Harm held the t-shirt aloft, "…she's missing, and…" he irately pointed to the paper in Gunny's hand, "…that note is signed by Sadik!"

"I understand that, sir," Gunny fought valiantly to placate, "…but what's to say that Sadik kill…ah um, I mean hurt the Colonel. How do we know that she didn't get away, sir? After all, she's a marine."

Harm unfolded the t-shirt and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, before he could even speak. "Gunny, the shirt shows a staaabb, um cuuuut over left upper…and it's covered in blooood," Harm paused a moment and looked away.

Webb continued on at that point, "Plus, we haven't heard a word from Mac since last night, and the note from Sadik states that he destroyed something special to ah…to…to Ha…"

"To me," Harm finished Clay's thought. "The note states that I destroyed something important to him, so he destroyed something special to me."

"No!" Gunny shook his head vehemently. "No, it doesn't, sir! That's not what Sadik's note says! And in my unfortunate experience with that lunatic, he always says exactly what he means…and means exactly what he says!"

Harm sat bolt upright in his chair and reached for the piece of stationary, "What do you mean, Gunny?"

"The note specifically says: _'You must pay! You destroyed something important to me, so I 'WILL' destroy something special to you!'_" Gunny paused for a moment to let the words sink in. "Sir, I don't think he's killed the Colonel, at least not yet, but…"

"…he will, if we don't do something…and do something quickly!" Harm jumped up from his seat, and prepared to take flight.

"Exactly," Gunny replied, "…I think he's challenging you to come after him. He doesn't want just her."

"That sick bastard," Webb threw in for good measure.

"He wants me for destroying his Stinger missiles. Hell, he probably wants all of us!" Harm smacked the table. "Well, I don't care, as loooong as," his voice cracked and broke.

"We'll get her, sir," Gunny's eyes met Harm with a firm, but steely determination, "…Marines don't leave each other behind. She came back for me, sir…I'm in!"

"Semper fi, Gunny."

"Semepr fi!"

"That's all well and good, you two," Clay interrupted and began stammering in his typical bureaucratic fashion, "…but we don't even know where to begin."

"You know what, Clay," Harm stood up from the table and gathered up the contents of Sadik's 'gift,' "…you can sit this one out if you want, but I can't. Now, I'm not the one who got Mac into this mess in the first place, but I'm sure as hell not gonna sit on my six while that bastard tortures her to death. The very idea that she's alone with him," he shuddered in disgust, "…all I can say is, I will do everything in my power to get her back…"

"…or die trying," Clay countered back.

"Or die trying!" Harm grew silent and stared off into the distance. When he finally gazed back at Webb, his answer was soft, but intense and full of conviction, "Clay, she did no less for me, and I expect no less from myself."

"You're right, Harm," Clay hung his head, "…let's go find her."

xxxxxxxxxx XXXXXXXXXX xxxxxxxxxx

Mid Morning

Webb's Room

Hotel Nuevo Simpatico

Ciudad Del Este

Paraguay

Gunny opened the door to Harm's insistent knocking, before the other man could beat the door down. Harm bustled into the room with a determined stride and paced like a caged animal.

"Jeez Rabb," Clay barked, "…if you don't settle down, you're going to have Sadik's goons on high alert."

"I thought you said we took them all out last night," Harm dropped into the nearest chair, but then popped back up and walked over to the far window. Pulling the draperies aside, he peeked between the sheers and glanced up and down the street. Satisfied that no one had them under surveillance, he closed the draperies again and turned to face Webb.

"Well?" He huffed insistently.

"Well what?" Clay stammered back.

"What have you found out?" Harm craned his neck from side to side, impatient with doing nothing.

Clay backed up a few steps out of Harm's reach, "Look, my contacts have all but dried up. I think Gunny may have had some luck though," he shrugged, "…how 'bout you?"

"I caught up with Hardy after we left the restaurant…"

"Are you sure you can trust him," Clay interrupted perplexed, "…because I'm not sure which side of the fence he's working from."

"NO!" Harm shot back, "But I'm not taking any chances…doesn't mean I can't use him right back. I told him I'm trying to track Sadik…that I think he might be trying to move weapons across the border. Hardy told me that Maria Elena sets him up to ship Canna across to Brazil by railway. Apparently, you can travel railway pretty easily without a passport."

"What's that gotta do with us finding Mac?" Clay asked incensed at the other man's colossal waste of time.

"Absolutely, positively nothing," Harm smiled mercilessly, "…but it did give Hardy reason to stock me up on weapons and ammunition. It also threw him off track. He now thinks we're headed for the Brazilian border by way of the Central Railway Station."

"Ahhhh," Clay nodded with a sardonic grin, "…good thinking, Rabb. Say, we'll make an agent out of you yet!"

"Forget it," Harm shoved him aside, "…I don't want anything to do with the likes of your agency. I just want to get Mac back. After that, I don't care what I do for a living as long as it legal," he waved him off, "…I would just as soon fly a crop duster, drive a garbage truck or heck be the neighborhood dog catcher, before I'd work for the likes of you and your ilk."

"Hey, that's a little harsh, don't you think? Especially, considering I'm here laying my butt on the line trying to help you get Mac back." Clay glanced up just in time to see Harm barreling at him with a full head of steam, and had the good sense to back off.

"She wouldn't be in this situation in the first place, if it weren't for you!" Harm punctuated every word with a jab to the smaller man's chest. "And I swear, if…"

Clay stood toe-to-toe and looked Harm in the eye. "And she wouldn't be where she is right now, if you'd kept an eye on her last night," Clay stopped mid rant, when he saw the taller man wilt with self-recrimination right before his eyes. "I'm sorry, Harm. I shouldn't have said that…"

"No, no, you're right," Harm shook his head and dropped onto the nearby sofa, "…if I'd been paying closer attention, Mac wouldn't be with that bastard right now. If I'd been paying attention, instead of acting like a jerk, we might be on our way home right now, and she'd be safe and sound. If I'd only told her…" his voice softened and drifted out.

"Told her what?" Clay dropped down on the sofa beside him.

Harm shook his head, "Nothing."

"If it's important," Clay prodded, "…if it could somehow help us find her…"

"It's between Mac and I," Harm's answer was barely audible, subdued and full of self-loathing, "…but if we do find her…"

"…'WHEN' we do find her," Clay corrected.

Harm glanced at Clay from the corner of his eye, and flashed a slight grin laced with thanks, "…'WHEN' we find her, I promise to tell her then."

"You know you were lucky to get her the first time," Clay teasingly knocked shoulders with his friend, hoping to lighten the mood, even if it was just for a moment's reprieve.

"It was a damn miracle," Harm snorted in jest. "If it hadn't been for accidentally running into Gunny, as I was walking through town…well, I shudder to think what might've happened to you and Mac."

"What happened between the two of you, anyway...last night, I mean?" Clay gently pried for information.

"Nothing," Harm stood and turned to walk away, "…that's the problem," he softly muttered under his breath.

A moment later Gunny strutted back into the room having just finished-up a conversation on his cell phone. Closing the device, he slipped it into his pocket and turned to face the other two men.

"Okay, I might have a lead," Gunny took a deep breath and promptly started in. "I managed to track down an old associate from my time with Garcia. Word is Sadik is trying to regroup and fast. There's a big influx of cash headed in from the Middle East next month, so he's sending out feelers…looking for loyalists now that Garcia's dead."

"That's great intel, Gunny," Harm nervously paced, "…maybe the CIA can ferret it out further at a later date. But what about Mac, right now!"

"That's just it, sir," Gunny's eyes twinkled, "…word is Sadik is back on the ranch. He's trying to recruit from the hacienda! I'm almost certain he's taken the Colonel back to the scene of the original crime, or what he sees as 'your' original crime."

"That would fit, Harm!" Webb jumped in to offer his two cents to the mix. "He wants to lure you back to his familiar stomping grounds, a place where he's in control. Take you out and destroy you, where he believes you wronged him!"

"I don't know," Harm hedged, "…we'd be wasting a lot of time, if we're wrong. Mac doesn't have that kind of time…just look at what that bastard did to you." He looked the agent up and down, carefully taking in his injuries then looked away. "I don't even want to think what he'd do to a woman."

"Sir, my contact says there's definitely new activity on that ranch...transmissions, phone calls. Trust me!"

Harm hesitated barely a moment, "You got it, Gunny. Let's go!" Harm turned to head out the door then paused, "What are we going to do about a vehicle? That truck Mac and I drove won't make it back through the Chaco Boreal. Hardy offered me a car, but I don't trust him not to report us to the authorities, or worse yet, to Sadik or his henchmen."

"We've got the jeep from before," Gunny offered, "…but I'm not sure it's in much better shape."

"This I can take care of…around here, money speaks, after all," Clay quickly dialed his cell phone.

xxxxxxxxxx XXXXXXXXXX xxxxxxxxxx

Early Afternoon

Route Nine, Trans-Chaco Highway

Chaco Boreal

Paraguay

Gunny carefully steered the jeep off the side of the road, and pulled it to a stop on the shoulder. Reaching into the back seat, he withdrew a cooler of sandwiches and bottled water. Opening the lid, he offered a bottle to Webb, but the agent declined and instead gingerly exited the passenger-side door of the vehicle and slowly ambled down the pockmarked-road.

"Hey!" Harm shouted, having finally been roused from his dazed state by the tires gripping the rocky shoulder, "…why the heck are we stopping?"

Gunny turned in his seat, "Mr. Webb needed to stretch his legs for a minute. Plus, I thought everyone could use a little lunch, before we get too near the hacienda."

"I don't care what Webb needs," Harm barked, "…and do you think Mac's enjoying any lunch right now?"

Gunny gazed out the window a moment, sucking in air through his clenched teeth, then shook his head in the negative. "No sir, I reckon not, but Mr. Webb is still feeling the effects of his injures, and seeing as he refuses to take any pain meds stronger than aspirin…I ah, figured we probably needed to keep him loose. It wouldn't do us much good, if he couldn't get out of the jeep, much less move once we arrive at the ranch. The way I figure it…we're gonna need every hand on deck to deal with Sadik when we arrive."

Harm peered through the front windshield, watching Clay hobble along the side of the road, then bowed his head chagrinned. "I'm sorry, Gunny. You're right, I wasn't thinking. I'm just so…" Harm looked away unable to give further voice to his terrified thoughts.

"You really care about her, don't you, sir?" The younger man lifted a water bottle to his lips and drained half of it in a single gulp. When Harm didn't answer, Gunny turned around in his seat to study the distraught man. "I know it's not my place, sir…but I couldn't help noticing, especially when the two of you were over in Afghanistan. You just seemed to click," Gunny shook his head and chuckled, "…you two were more attuned to each other's thoughts and needs than most old married couples. I just assumed…I mean after all this time," the younger man shrugged.

Harm glanced up through defeated, half-hooded eyes, sadness evident in their depths, "We always put work first, Gunny. Service to Country, Navy and the Corp. Followed all the rules. We never made time for us. Now, maybe it's toooo…" he looked away as his voice tripped and broke on the words, deciding to concentrate on the lush vegetation surrounding them instead. Finally, after several moments passed, he turned back, "Gunny, do you think it's possible for two people to go back in time, undo a mistake they've made?"

"Anything's possible, sir…especially if you want it bad enough." Gunny smiled knowingly at the older man, understanding fully his true question, then feigned ignorance, when Harm blushed crimson red with embarrassment.

"Hey, look…Mr. Webb's coming back. We should be on our way again real soon." Gunny reached into the cooler and handed Harm some water and a sandwich.

"No thanks, Gunny. I'm not really hungry."

"Need to eat something, sir," Gunny shoved the food at Harm insistently. "Last thing I saw you eat was that paltry breakfast this morning, which you then promptly used to fertilize the hotel lawn. I know you might not be hungry, but you're going to need the energy and strength. Plus, we're still an hour-and-a-half, two hours out from the hacienda, which should give things plenty of time to settle. If you don't want the sandwich, there's some fruit in the cooler for the carbs, and in this weather, you really do need to push the fluids."

Harm nodded and accepted the water, then dug through the cooler for a banana and a cluster of grapes. He popped a couple of the grapes in his mouth, before twisting the cap off the water. Taking a refreshing swig, he swallowed just as Clay entered the car.

"Save some lunch for me, Gunny?" Webb smiled disarmingly then winked at Harm in the backseat.

"Yes sir," Gunny tossed him a bottle of water and a cellophane wrapped sandwich.

Clay examined the food with wary disdain, "Where exactly did you say you picked this thing up, or do I even want to know?"

"Made friends with one of the gorgeous chiefs at a little restaurant in town," Gunny wiggled his brow suggestively, flashing a dimple-laced grin. "Trust me," he tapped the wrapped sandwich, "…this is good stuff. Plus, you need some food in your stomach, before you take anymore of these." He tossed a bottle of aspirin into Clay's lap.

"How you feeling, Clay?" Harm clapped a hand lightly on the agent's left shoulder.

Clay grimaced slightly at the touch, "I'll get by, but thanks for asking." He popped three tablets in his mouth and chased them down with a big gulp of water. When Gunny raised a brow, Webb glared back, "Don't start, Mom!"

*

The reminder of the trip was made in near silence. Gunny's attempts to engage the other two men in conversation were met with one or two word grunts at best, and dueling barbs at worst. He soon learned to savor the monotonous hum of the engine's roar and the jarring beat of the rocking suspension, to the company of his two human counterparts.

As they turned off the main route onto a deserted dirt road, Gunny slowed the vehicle to a near crawl and cautiously scanned the horizon. Harm immediately bolted upright on full alert, warily taking in his surroundings. The road continued on a short distance, before curving off to the right and disappearing into a jungle of low vegetation and trees. Lowering his window, Harm listened closely for any sounds of civilization or humankind.

"The hacienda should be up ahead, about eighth of mile," Gunny pointed out the front windshield, "…just around that bend."

"Gunny," Harm tapped him on the shoulder, "…why don't you pull off to the side of the road. I think we should hike in from here, take a look over that crest like we did the last time." Harm was already gathering the guns from the back cargo hatch of the jeep and loading ammunition into the magazines.

"Mr. Webb, are you going to be okay climbing the hills from here?" Gunny accepted a semi-automatic pistol from Harm and tucked it into the back waistband of his jeans.

Webb retrieved his own semi-automatic and did likewise, "You just worry about keeping Rabb in line, Gunny…I'll take care of myself."

"Yeah right," Harm rolled his eyes and exited the vehicle, tossing a rifle at each of his partners. "Webb, you just make sure you're not pointing that thing at one of us friendlies and we'll be fine. In fact, why don't you try hard not to shoot yourself in the foot. And if at all possible, I'd really like to rescue Mac and make it out alive, without one of us being taken hostage again this time. Do you think that's possible on your watch?"

Webb shouldered the strap of the rifle then stood stock still, staring at Harm, "Rabb, do you think you could give it a rest for one minute? Now, I'm sorry that bastard has Mac, but the two of us going at each other isn't going to accomplish anything but getting her killed. We need to work together on this…all three of us, as a team."

"He's right, Commander," Gunny chimed in, "…if there's more than just Sadik in that camp, then it's going to take all of us to get the Colonel out. We all need to be alert and willing to listen to each other, otherwise…"

Harm's only reply was a curtly nod of his head. He reached through the back window to extract a pair of binoculars from the seat, then took off over the steep hill. "Let's head out," was barked over his shoulder, while never looking back.

Gunny followed closely in pursuit with barely a pause to acknowledge the accompanying CIA agent, "You coming, Mr. Webb?"

"Yeah, I'm right behind," Webb grunted in pain, while trailing several paces to the rear. "Go ahead, start without me, I'll catch-up eventually," he muttered under his breath, "…never mind the wounds and bruises and cuts. It's nothing really. No, no, just go on ahead…pay no heed."

"You say something," Mr. Webb?" Gunny hissed, as he threw himself over a ridge, landing hard on his feet, then took cover behind a tree.

"Noooo…whatever…gave yooou…that ideaaa," Webb sighed heavily, already out of breath and barely able to keep up with the other two men.

"Would you two shut-up!" Harm harshly bellowed out in a loud whisper. "I can see the hacienda up ahead, about 100 yards."

Gunny crawled up next to him, "Any sign of activity, sir?"

"Not so far," Harm carefully surveyed the horizon. "Certainly a lot quieter than the last time we were here."

"No caaars," Webb wheezed out, as he finally arrived beside them, "…either they're hidden…or Sadik's alooone." The agent gulped heavily seeking air.

"You okay, sir?" Gunny warily scrutinized the agent. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for you to come along…"

"I'll be fine…Gunnery Sergeant," Clay drew a deep breath, "…I intend to see…this mission through. Just need a…minute…."

"Yeah…well, just make sure you're not more of a detriment than a…" Harm stopped mid sentence when both Gunny and Webb pegged him with a withering glare. He quickly tried to backpedal, "Sorry, I'm just worried about Mac. I…um, I'm thankful for the help." He looked away chagrinned, "Let's get to it."

He diverted his attention back to the binoculars. "I don't see any activity around the house, no guards, no vehicles, no nothing. Just how much do you trust this intel, Gunny? I'd hate to think we wasted a whole day driving through this jungle."

"My source is good, sir. I'm sure of it," Gunny insisted adamantly, "…I have no reason to think he'd lie. Maybe Sadik hasn't had sufficient time to regroup."

"You think he brought Mac out here all by himself," Clay gingerly wiggled forward through the underbrush to get a closer look.

"Could be, sir," Gunny nodded, "…he'd have no way of knowing she was a marine. To his knowledge, she was just the wife of an arms dealer. He probably thought he was abducting an unaccompanied woman, and if he caught her unawares…"

"Yeah, but he knew Mac helped Harm destroy the Stinger missiles," Clay distractedly threw in, as he inched closer still. Cupping his hands over his eyes, he squinted, concentrating all his attention on the main house.

"No, he didn't," Harm turned to face both men, "…he'd already fled the compound with his guards. So, if he tracked us back to Ciudad Del Este through Maria Elena, he could've gotten the jump on her when…when she…um…" He left the unsettling thought hanging, and turned back around.

"Harm," Webb pointed toward the ranch, "…if you don't see any guards, maybe we should head down and check out the lower level of the ranch. That's where they held us hostage…well, when they weren't torturing me anyway…"

Harm swung the binoculars away from the house to the old adjacent shack. Studying it intently, he paused a moment longer, "Guys, the door to that torture shed is open, and I think I can see someone chained to the table in there."

"Is it Mac?" Webb maneuvered for a better look, "Do you see any signs of Sadik or his goons?"

"No," Harm lowered the binoculars, "…I don't see anyone around at all. I'm going to head down there, scope it out for a closer look…"

"Harm, wait," Webb grabbed his arm, "…it could be a trap. We need better intel and a plan of attack. For all you know, they're hiding out in the house, using Mac as bait and just waiting for you to show up. You can't go off half-cocked…"

"I am not gonna sit on my six waiting for Sadik to come back," Harm tossed the binoculars at Gunny. "You two can watch from here, if you want, but I'm going in!"

"Rabb!" Webb tried to reason, but Harm was already over the hill and on his way toward the shed. "He's gonna get 'em both killed," Webb groused in frustration, "…do you want to follow him or should I?"

"Sir!" Gunny screamed, "There's a trip line on the ground…ten feet from the entrance to the shed. I doubt the Commander saw it!"

Gunny tossed the binoculars aside, as both men scurried over the hill and tumbled down the incline in fast pursuit.

"Sir! No!"

"Rabb Stop! You'll Kill Her!"

Now a mere thirty yards from his goal, Harm could clearly see Mac shackled to the torture table just as she'd been previously. Memories of his first trip to that shed came flooding back, and he picked up his pace, fixated on rescuing her from the grasp of that fanatical bastard.

"HARM NO!" Clay continued running faster, ignoring the searing pain induced by each step. Tossing his rifle aside, he lightened his load, preparing to tackle the much larger man.

"COMMANDER RABB!" Gunny screamed then lunged forward on the ground. Rolling to a stop, he shouldered the butt of his rifle, took aim then sent a spray of bullets at his intended target.

Clay dove head first at the opening chorus of gunfire…

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**__ Thanks for the reviews from my loyal few! They were much appreciated, especially after a very long night on call!!!_

**xxxxxxxxxx XXXXX xxxxxxxxxx**

**Chapter 4**

Mid Afternoon

Sadik's Hacienda

Chaco Boreal

Paraguay

Diving head first at the opening barrage of bullets, Clay managed to snag Harm by the feet, slamming him hard onto the ground. The duo tumbled end-over-end to the right in a smothering cloud of dust and debris, out of the line of gunfire.

Harm scurried for cover beside the shed then surveyed the horizon for armed terrorists. Clay followed closely on his heels, groaning with each movement, before once again forcefully throwing his body against Harm's.

"Get off me, Webb," Harm gave him a shove then reached for the handgun in the belt of his jeans.

"S'kay," Webb wheezed, "…s'only…Gunny."

"What?!" Harm screeched back, "…are you both mad?!"

"Noooo…noo…trip wire," Webb gasped, "…had to…stop…yoou." Webb rolled onto his back, dropping his head on the ground and continued to groan. "Ohhh…think…I'm…dying…here."

"Well, you better hurry up about it then, before I kill you first," Harm shimmed up onto his knees and scooted to the corner of the building.

"Gunny!" Harm called out, "Gunny, is there anyone else out there besides you?"

"No sir," Gunny quickly closed the distance to the shed, "…not that I can see. But if anyone else is around, we've surely announced our presence by now." Gunny grimaced apologetically at Harm, "Sorry about that, sir…I didn't know how else to warn you, and I didn't figure Mr. Webb would reach you in time."

"Kind of…off target…a little there…Gunny," Webb flapped a weak hand in the air, still sprawled flat on his back.

"What makes you say that, sir?" Gunny flashed the subtlest of smiles. "Way I see it…I was dead on. I aimed just left of the Commander's feet, figuring that'd send him veering to the right. That gave you just enough time to tackle him off to the side of the shed. Didn't earn that Expert Rifle badge for nothing," Gunny shot off a full-fledged dimpled-grin at the agent's expense.

"Could'a warn me," Clay briefly lifted his head, before dropping it back heavily into the dirt.

"Didn't hurt yourself there, did ya, sir?"

"Nothing to worry 'bout," Clay sighed, "…few more bruises to the skin…lot more to the ego."

"Can we cut the chatter, please?!" Harm threw both men a threatening glare, "Maybe get back to the issue at hand?"

"Sorry sir," Gunny crawled up next to Harm. "See the wire, Commander," Gunny pointed to the wooden stakes driven in 10 feet from the entrance to the shed. "I spotted it just as you took off. If you look closely, the wire travels to the porch, and from there to the doorframe. I suspect it might be a trip wire for explosives, although we won't know for sure without further investigation."

"Jeez," Harm gasped, "…I could've blown us both up!"

"Knowing Sadik, I suspect it was rigged to just hurt you," Clay had finally managed to push himself into a sitting position, and was slowly crawling toward them, "…but was probably intended to kill Mac. That way he could make you responsible for her death."

"…'_I will destroy something special to you.'_ That sick bastard!" Harm doubled over and repeatedly retched. "He knew that would be…the best way…to get to me…make me responsible…for killing her."

"Yeah, he's great at playing mind games," Clay patted him on the back, "…so whatever you do, don't let him in."

"You talking from experience?" Harm gasped, still sprawled on all fours, while blinking rapidly to clear away the tears blinding his eyes.

"Only too well," Clay shook his head somberly, "…only too well. Come on," Clay offered a hand, tugging Harm up from the dirt, "…let's go check on Mac."

The three men crept around the corner of the building toward the entrance of the shed. Harm painstakingly avoided the trip wire, while stepping onto the porch. Motioning for the other two men to hang back, he slowly advanced to the door; body hugging tightly against the wood façade of the building.

"Gunny," he called when arriving at the doorframe.

"Sir?"

"I can see the wire threaded through eyelets in the doorframe. It disappears under the header. I'm going to need your help tracing it beyond there…I don't want to risk setting anything off while I'm trying to get Mac out."

"Okay sir, I'm coming around, but what about Mr. Webb?"

"Tell Webb to hang back…keep a look out. I don't want Sadik getting the drop on us while we're preoccupied."

"Got it, sir."

Harm inched further forward peeking around the rough cedar framework of the door. Mac was shackled to the table by heavy arm and leg-irons just as before. She was lying deathly still; her face diverted away from the doorway.

"Mac?" Harm called out softly, still unsure of Sadik's whereabouts. When he received no reply, he tried again. "Mac, it's Harm…We're here to get you!" She didn't move a muscle or respond in any way to the sound of his voice.

"Commander," Gunny arrived at his side, "…I take it the Colonel's inside?"

"Yes," turning his head briefly, he acknowledged the other man, "…but she's not responding."

Between the two of them, they were able to trace the trip wire, as it traversed the room from the header until it disappeared beneath the base of the wooden torture table restraining Mac. Gunny dropped to his belly and commando crawled across the concrete floor cautiously burrowing under the legs of the rough-hewn slab.

Coming back up, eyes gawking saucer-wide, he announced, "Grenade, sir…just a grenade! It would certainly be enough fire power to kill the Colonel, or at the very least, severely injury her," he shook his head, "…but I don't get the elaborate set-up. What's the point?"

"To make me responsible," Harm sighed in disgust, continuing to hover just out of reach of Mac's body. His fingers itching to touch her, to confirm that she was still alive. "Did you disarm it?"

"No sir, I couldn't find the pin and didn't want to chance setting the thing off. I figure if we can gently lift the Colonel away…get the hell out of here, we should be good in shape." He jumped to his feet and waited to assist as directed.

"Mac," Harm cautiously moved in, "…Mac, can you hear me?"

"She's not answering, sir."

"I can see that, Gunny!" Harm bit back, then took a deep calming breath. He leaned in closer still and gently slid his fingertips over her neck. "I can feel a pulse…it's strong and steady, and she's definitely breathing."

"Maybe she's just sedated," Gunny shrugged his shoulders, throwing out hopeful suggestions. "It wouldn't have done Sadik's plan much good, if she'd have thrashed around and set the grenade off before you arrived."

"Help me unfasten the shackles!"

The two worked hastily together, and soon had Mac free of her restraints. Harm carefully checked for injures. Running his hands up the length her legs, he found no evidence of breaks. He cautiously unzipped her jacket, while Gunny turned away, offering some small modicum of modesty to the superior female officer. Harm quickly searched across her abdomen and upper chest, but found only superficial bruising. Sliding her sleeves up her arms, he found more of the same. He gently brushed aside her hair, feeling along both sides of her neck. It was there he located the only area of injury, a deep bruise at the base of the left side of her skull.

"I think I might have figured out why she's unconscious," Harm tersely whispered, "…we need to get her to a hospital." Before he tried to mobilize her for evacuation, he shifted her ever so slightly onto her right side.

"Gunny, can you help me check her back?" They found more bruising and an unusual amount of mobility over the left shoulder, but no other evidence of cuts or breaks. Finally, Harm opened each of her eyelids and peered into her eyes; the pupils seemed to equally react.

"Other than bruises, the only significant injures I can see are to her left shoulder and neck," Harm pointed out. "I'm guessing that Sadik caught her from behind and probably knocked her out. I'm hoping that it's only a concussion, but we won't know for sure until she's been evaluated by a doctor."

"Are you ready to try and move her, sir?" Gunny hovered close by, awaiting further instruction, but anxious to be on their way.

"Yeah, um…I think I can pick her up and carry her by myself, if you'll just make sure that the table stays perfectly still. Now, wouldn't be a particularly good time to set off that grenade of yours, Gunny."

"Hey, just because I found it doesn't make it mine, sir. I, for one, never read the _'finders keepers, losers weepers'_ rule in the UCMJ…but if we manage to get out of this alive, I'm certainly willing to search for it, sir," Gunny flashed him a disarming smile.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Gunny," Harm quirked a brow, then cautiously slid his hands under Mac's lithe body. "Okay, I'm going to lift on three. One…two…THREE!"

Mac's body fell heavily against his chest, arms dangling free, and her face lulling forward into the crook of his neck. Gunny held the table firm, never allowing it to move so much as a quarter inch. They both remained rigid and still for several seconds, praying to God for no explosions or fireworks.

Finally, Gunny broke out in a satisfied grin, "Ready to get the hell out of here, sir?!"

"Lead the way, Gunny…lead the way!"

The two traversed their way backwards, past the trip wire, carefully landing each step. Once outside, they quickly cleared the porch and rounded the side of the building to find Clay vigilantly standing guard with gun drawn in hand.

"Any sign of trouble, Clay?" Harm asked and ever so gently shifting Mac in his arms.

"No, haven't seen hide or hair of Sadik, which is starting to worry me." Webb closed in, quickly covering the space, "How is she?"

"Unconscious," Harm slipped a hand up to support her head, "…we need to get her to a hospital fast."

"We're at least three, four hundred miles from Ciudad del Este," Webb roughly rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you think she'll last that long?"

"I have no intention of going anywhere near that godforsaken city, Webb. Sadik was able to waltz in and abduct her once from there already. Plus, I don't trust Hardy. I think we should head the other direction to Asuncion…toward the American Embassy."

"That's still hundreds of miles away, Rabb!"

"What about that clinic, Mr. Webb," Gunny offered, "…the same place I took you. She would at least have access to a doctor, and they could transport her by ambulance…"

"Fine," Webb threw up his hands, "…whatever, let's just get the hell out of here. We can discuss it further on the way. I still say Ciudad de…"

"It's not your call anymore, Webb!" Harm roared back, "I'm taking control of this mission…"

"Oh, you're taking control…"

"Sirs, how about we seek medical care first, argue later. Correction," Gunny held up a finger, "…how about I go retrieve the car, bring it back, then we take the Colonel…"

"Fine!" The other two men echoed together.

Ten minutes later, Gunny had returned with the jeep. Harm gently scooted into the back seat with Mac in his lap. He grabbed a blanket from the cargo hold and tucked it in all around her. Assuring that her head was well supported against his chest, he soothingly stroked his fingers through her hair.

Webb slid into the front passenger seat and glanced at the pair in the back, "You going to hold her all the way there?"

"Yes."

"You know, it's a fair ways to the clinic. We could always fold the backseat flat, allow her lie down. That way you wouldn't have to…"

"She's just where she belongs," Harm rubbed his cheek softly against her hair, and stared out the side window.

"Yes, I'd have to agree," Webb whispered softly, "...I think she finally is exactly where she belongs."

The two men sat in silence for several more minutes, before Harm eventually spoke. "Where's Gunny? We need to be on our way."

"Uh-huh," Webb shrugged, "…he said he was taking care of something once and for all."

At that moment, Clay spotted Gunny far across the yard lying on his stomach. Reaching for the binoculars beside him on the seat, he gazed through the window and watched Gunny raise a rifle to his shoulder, peer in the sight and pull the trigger. Almost instantaneously, a small pile of rocks imploded near the wooden stakes, followed by a large explosion decimating the entire torture shed. Everyone ducked on instinct, shocked by the magnitude of the blast.

Gunny quickly sprang up and ran for the cover of the car, as debris rained down from the sky. Jumping behind the steering wheel, he flashed an apologetic grin, "Sorry, I had no idea it would be that big!"

"What the heck did you do, Gunnery Sergeant?! Webb bellowed.

"I was just making sure that torture shed wasn't used again anytime soon, sir! I only expected a grenade to blow up. Apparently, it was rigged to additional explosives. Sir!"

Harm's head shot up, eyes growing wide, "Are you telling me?"

"Yes sir, we're lucky to be alive!"

"Gunny, just get us to the clinic," Harm dropped his head back wearily onto the seat and hugged Mac's body closer to his chest.

As Gunny engaged the gears and backed the jeep from the driveway onto the dirt road, none of the car's occupants noticed the sinister figure watching them from a stony perch hidden high amongst the trees.

xxxxxxxxxx XXXXX xxxxxxxxxx

Early the Next Morning

Centro Medico Bautista

Asuncion

Paraguay

Clay peered through the glass of the hospital room door, gazing at the couple beyond. He watched Harm shift uncomfortably in the small bedside chair, wrestling for a degree of comfort. The proud officer rotated one way, then the other, before finally giving up and slouching forward, elbows planted on knees. His head dropped down, then pivoted right, as his eyes sought respite from the rising sun. Clay frowned at the ineffectiveness of his diversionary tactics, and wondered why the stubborn man didn't just close the blinds. It was then that the snooping agent noticed the delicate hand nestled securely within the other's grasp. Shaking his head at the predictable sign of endearment, Webb rapped his knuckles once against the door, before entering the room.

"Morning, how's she doing?" He extended a steaming cup of coffee in Harm's direction.

"Still sleeping," Harm whispered, accepting the offering and took a cautious sip. Tipping his head in approval, he deeply inhaled the aroma wafting off the steam. "This is good," he swallowed a larger gulp, "…must not have come from here."

"No," Webb pulled up another chair to the bedside, "…I stopped at a little coffee shop around the corner on my way in." He tipped his head and eyed his friend with a critical eye, "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Didn't need any," Harm mumbled around another mouthful of rich black heaven. "Needed this though," he raised the cup toward Clay, "…thanks. Means I won't have to leave her bedside."

"I could always stick around for a little while, if you'd like," Clay reached into his pocket and withdrew a plastic hotel card key, "…you're welcome to use my room for a quick shower and shave."

"No," Harm shook his head, "…I want to be here, when she wakes up."

"Has she," Webb gestured toward the bed, "…woken up, I mean?"

"No."

"What are the doctors saying?"

"Concussion," Harm shifted awkwardly in his seat, never releasing her hand, "…they say she could wake up today, tomorrow…soon."

"You can't sit here forever, Harm," Clay flashed him a look of uncomfortable sympathy.

"Yes, I can," Harm stared off into space, "…I failed her once; I won't do it again. I'm not letting her out of my sight."

Clay leaned forward in his chair, resting a hand on the other man's forearm, "Harm, it's not your fault that Sadik got to her. If that were the case, then it's my fault too." Harm's eyes shifted to Clay, boring into the other man, leaving no doubt as to his co-assignment of blame.

Clay jumped up and began nervously pacing in the enclosed space of the small room, "Look Harm, I'm sorry I brought Mac down here. I'll concede responsibility and sole ownership of that blame."

"Why did you?" Harm's words were curt and barely controlled.

"Don't know," Clay shrugged, "…I needed help. Kershaw wouldn't listen. The two of you have always come through for me in the past."

"But you didn't ask for both of us this time," Harm's steel grey eyes threatened to slice the smaller man in two.

"No, I didn't," Webb diverted his gaze, rubbing a palm over the tense muscles in his neck. "Look, you were on trial, or had just been acquitted. I needed a woman for my cover…Mac fit the bill."

"But why her?"

"Why not?" Clay glared back defiantly.

"Because…"

"Because why, Rabb? Because she's yours?" Clay stalked toward the bed, "…your partner, your friend, your…"

"Yes!" Harm snapped, then dropped his head, "No, I mean…I don't know."

"Well, for Sarah's sake, don't you think it's about time you found out?"

With a heavy sigh of regret, Clay dropped back into his chair, "Look, I'm really sorry for a lot of things that happened on this mission, Harm. I'm sorry I got Mac involved in this mess, and I'm sorry for trying to come between the two of you. But most of all, I'm sorry that I took advantage of our friendship." Clay extended his hand, "Maybe one of these days, you'll both be able to forgive me."

Harm stared at the extended hand, but made no attempt to accept it. Just as Clay was about to give up and leave the room, Harm reached for the agent's hand, "Thanks for helping me get her out of there yesterday, Clay. And I'd really appreciate it, if you could assist with getting the both of us safely home."

"Don't I always," Clay flashed his customary smug grin then turned and exited the room. Turning back at the door, he pointed to Harm and winked, "And it comes with breakfast too. I'll see to it myself…be back shortly."

As the door swung shut, Harm shook his head and laughed, "You know, Marine…just between you and me, I might have to admit to kind of liking that spook. He generally comes through…in his own befuddled, self-serving way…But, if you tell anyone, I'll deny it!"

He clasped her hand between the two of his and stared down at her still form resting quietly in the bed. Her breathing was relaxed and even. If it hadn't been for the fading bruises on her right cheek, and her heavily bandaged shoulder, she might have just appeared to be sleeping. He reached up a finger and gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then stroked the pad of his thumb across her cheek. There was no response, none whatsoever to his subtle tactile gestures.

He sighed heavily, raising her hand to his lips and caressed the soft flesh with tender kisses. Rotating her arm, his lips inched their way across the fragile skin of her wrist. He cupped her palm around his cheek and held it there, breathing her in.

Closing his eyes, he yearned with all his might for her to wake up or merely acknowledge his presence. He promised her anything and everything, a pocketful of wishes, all the stars in the sky, if only she would come back to him. After all, he was an expert in this art of mental wishing; he had perfected it over the last several years. It was the actual verbal declarations that had proved to be too much. If only she could hear the steadfast vows silently pledged by his heart, instead of all the befuddled utterances tripped over by his tongue. She thought he didn't love her, but her conclusions couldn't be more wrong.

Objection, Your Honor…Rush to judgment…Assumes facts not in evidence.

How was it that a man who made his living by eloquent words, could find himself at a complete loss for them in that exact moment when they mattered the most? He shook away the bewildering thoughts and gently placed her arm back upon the bed.

"You know, Mac," his fingers stroked a meandering pattern along the length of her arm, "…I really need you to wake up right now. I'm starting to go a little stir crazy, and I could use some of that no nonsense marine dispassionate planning of yours."

His breath burst forth in short hot gusts, as he warred with himself for emotional control. Goosebumps rose in a path along her arm, a testament to the warmth of his close proximity. Comforted in no small part by this tiny response to him, he moved in closer still and watched with fascination, needing even more. He willed it with his mind, he communed it with his heart, and finally he found the courage to speak the words with his tongue.

"There was a brief moment yesterday, when I thought I'd lost you. And I realized then…well, you'd think I would've learned my lesson by now, especially since I've been down this road before. That old adage: _'Don't wait until tomorrow, because tomorrow may never come'_…well, let's just say it's frighteningly true, when…" he shook his head, "…I don't know why I can't manage to be more eloquent at this. Put me in a courtroom and I'm fine, but strip me naked in front of you, and I, uh…I well…um, uh, let's save that particular thought for another time," he shook his head and chuckled self-consciously, mumbling under his breath, "…like maybe the next time I find you alone in a bubble bath. Can't believe I didn't take advantage of that particular golden opportunity to, ah…um, well, never mind."

He cleared his throat, picked up her hand, took a deep breath and tried again, "You know, I always thought I was gonna be, I don't know, special. But I'm not. I'm just...I'm just an ordinary person. And that's OK. Because...you make me special. Don't you know that? Don't you know that you're everything in this world to me? And we're gonna make it through this because we are a team. So don't you 'EVER' think about leaving me again...because I need you. I love you. And if I were to ever lose you, then I don't think I could go…"

He stopped mid sentence, when she opened her eyes. "Mac? Mac, can you hear me?"

She blinked against the glaring rays of the bright morning sun, then grimaced and turned away in pain. "Wheeere?" Her voice was scratchy and weak.

"Just a minute," he jumped up and quickly lowered the shades. Returning to her side, he retrieved a glass of water from the bedside table and encouraged her to drink, "Try a few sips, then I'll go fetch the nurse."

She tentatively swallowed, then pushed it away, "Where am I?" She pulled her hand from his, and massaged her temple, allowing her eyes to drift closed.

"It's okay, you're in a hospital in Asuncion." He looked away, "You probably don't remember."

She turned toward him, squinting her eyes and fought against the throbbing pain for any remnant of the memories. They seemed to dance just out of reach. "Sadik?"

"Yes," was his simple reply.

"Clay?"

"Webb's fine," he slouched in disappointment "…maybe I should go find the nurse."

"Wait," she stared at the ceiling, "…don't remember…all." She sighed in frustration, rubbing a hand across her brow, "Rescue…plane crash…us fight…Maria Elena dead…Sadik." She rolled her eyes toward him, panting heavily with pain, "Hotel…I…I…left." Her scowl lines deepened, as she glanced around the room, "Hospital…why?"

Harm dropped his head then looked away, "I should get the nurse. She can give you something for the pain."

Mac reached out and limply grasped his arm, "Why?"

"Sadik abducted you, night before last." His eyes remained diverted to the floor, "Near as we can figure, he got you after you left the hotel room. He must have struck you from behind, because you had bruising over the base of your skull and left neck with a concussion. You also have a dislocation of your left shoulder. The doctor said the concussion should resolve without further intervention, but he feels you should obtain a surgical consult on your shoulder once back in the States."

"Wheeere…where," her voice trembled, "…did you find me?"

"Back at the hacienda," his eyes flicked briefly toward hers then danced away, "…he sent me a package with your shirt and a note. Gunny, Clay and I drove back there to resc..." he tripped over the word, "…to get you back."

"I was there with Sadik and his men?" Her voice crackled with terror.

"Just Sadik."

"Did he…" tears flooded her voice.

"Nooo!" He flew to her side. "No, he didn't do anything else. He took you to the hacienda to lure me there. He wanted to kill me for destroying his missiles. He set a trap, but all four of us got out alive. We never saw Sadik." When he saw the tears sliding down her cheeks, he gently took her in his arms, "I swear, Mac…Sadik didn't do anything else to you. The doctor did a full exam just to be sure. You were hit on the back of the head, and as a consequence have a concussion. You most likely dislocated your shoulder in the ensuing fall. Nothing else, sweetheart…nothing else." He gently embraced her with one arm, while rubbing her back with the other. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm so sorry I let him get to you, but I will never let it happen again…I promise. I'm so sorry. I love you."

She stiffened in his arms, and he carefully lowered her to the bed, fearful his movements were inducing more pain than calm. "I'm sorry, if I hurt you, sweetheart. Let me go find the nurse about those pain meds." He reached out to stroke her cheek, "I'm so thankful that your alive and safe. I can't tell you how worried I was…"

She closed her eyes and turned away. Shrinking deeper into her pillow, she recoiled from his touch.

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:**__ Well, this is the end of this tale. Special thanks to those of you who took the ride and reviewed along the way! The remainder of the submitted ficathon challenge movie prompts, used throughout this story, are included at the end of this chapter. Now perhaps it's time for me to return to my favorite family…hey now, is that Ellie I hear calling???????_

_**xxxxxxxxxx XXXXX xxxxxxxxxx**_

**Chapter 5**

_The flight home was tense and silent. Webb, true to his word, had them on a first class flight out of Paraguay just two days later. As far as Harm was concerned, the whole South American experience could best be summed up as a six day 'no expense-paid' rollercoaster ride into hell. He had never experienced so many volcanic eruptions of emotional highs and lows compressed into such a short time period in his life: She was missing, no dead…no she's alive, no crashed…no alive… dead, alive, unconscious, angry, aloof. Hell, he needed a scorecard just to keep track!_

_He shifted in his seat trying to shake away the pins-and-needles numbness, which had taken up permanent residence in his feet. His knee bumped against hers, and she shot him a warning glare._

"_Sorry," he tried to look appropriately chagrinned, but failed miserably when his elbow staked full claim to their shared armrest._

_She released that heavy indignant sigh of hers, the one that hailed from somewhere deep within the depths of her soul. He was sure she saved them up just for him. Counted up each of his annoying ticks and habits, kept track of them on her fingers and toes, and when she had amassed enough of them, just couldn't take it anymore, they'd erupt and spew forth. In the last 24 hours, he'd made a habit of annoying her just to see her react. It had become something of a challenge really, each attempt a little more exasperating and aggravating than the last. He'd learned his basic skills on the playground, honed them as a fighter jock out at sea, but the true perfecting of them…ah, that he had saved for battling her in the courtroom. She was a worthy opponent, and it had taken time and patience to find all the right buttons to push, the pigtails to pull, the knees to skin, and at that exact ideal moment…the cheek to kiss. But what he had been woefully and inadequately prepared for…was for her to clobber him right back!_

_He watched her from the corner of his eye all the while pretending that he wasn't staring. She was stubbornly ignoring him just as she had for the last 48 hours. And what had he done that had been so horribly wrong, so depraved and immoral, as to deserve such unwavering disregard? His unforgivable and grievous sin had been to tell her that he had a deep and abiding affection for her. In fact, he'd gone so far as to admit that he loved her! Well, it wasn't so much the admitting that was the problem, not completely anyway…it was his unending insistence against her objection that had been his mortal flaw._

_It had started as soon as she had regained consciousness. He should have known something was amiss from her cool demeanor and rigid response, but it wasn't until he had confronted her with the letter that the enormity of her misinterpretation became apparent. She assured him that while they would remain the closest of friends, a __knee jerk emotional reaction, based on a misplaced sense of obligation and a fear of loss, was not an adequate __foundation for building a long-term romantic partnership. When he attempted to counter her arguments and 'make his case,' she deflected him point by point. It felt more akin to negotiating the terms of a plea bargain than begging for this single, solitary chance at an opportunity for happiness in their life. It was unnerving and all so damn frustrating! He wanted to yell at her, shake her…hell, just kiss her until she shut-up. How was it that they had suddenly switched places?_

_He chanced a glance her way and noticed her eyes drifting shut. Reaching for a magazine in the seatback before him, he flipped through the pages searching for a throwaway cardboard ad. Finding the object of his desire, he quickly scribbled a one-line message in large block letters across the card, then nonchalantly dropped it into her lap._

_She retrieved the note card, scanned the words and tossed it back. Without so much as a gander, she mumbled into her upturned palm, "No, you don't."_

"_Yes, I do," he just as casually countered her response. He stretched his legs, re-pocketed the magazine and looked up and down the aisle. The flight attendant noticed his interest and immediately walked his way._

"_May I help you, sir," the dark-haired beauty smiled enticingly._

"_Yes, water please, if it's not too much trouble," Harm returned her smile._

"_Anything for your wife, sir?"_

"_Sweetheart," he leaned in close to Mac and stroked her arm, "…would you like anything?"_

_She scowled at him and addressed the attendant directly, "Water would be nice, thank you."_

_Harm chuckled, "You'll have to excuse my wife. She had an accident in Paraguay and has a wicked headache. I've been trying to get her to take a nap, but she can't seem to get comfortable. I thought perhaps, if she took some of her pain meds."_

_The flight attendant chuckled at the thoughtful attractive man, "Well, I'm sure if you put up the armrest, she could find a comfortable spot on your shoulder."_

"_Now, why didn't I think of that," Harm rolled his eyes, feigning innocence, then proceeded to do just that. Placing his arm around Mac's shoulder, he tucked her in close, "See honey, isn't this so much better. Once you've taken your meds, I'm sure you'll fall fast asleep." He leaned down and placed a quick peck on her forehead._

_The attendant smiled sweetly, "I'll be right back with that water."_

_When she walked away, Mac struggled against his chest, "Harm, let go of me."_

_He kept his arm in place, "Look Mac, you're exhausted. I know you have an awful headache, because I've experienced more than a few concussions myself over the years. You haven't slept a wink, since we left the hospital six hours ago, and this flight isn't due to land for several more hours. So what say you give it a rest for a while, both literally and figurative, and use me for a pillow. I promise not to make any untoward advances on you in your semi-conscious state."_

_When she considered him with bleary, unsure eyes, he gave a soft sincere smile, "Please?"_

"_Okay…thanks," her response was so quiet, he almost didn't hear._

_When the flight attendant returned, they managed to get Mac comfortably settled with pillows, blankets and meds. She was asleep with little protest and Harm relaxed himself for the first time in days. He watched over her while she slumbered, adjusted her blankets, stroked her hair._

_His eye caught sight of the contested note tossed away earlier in the flight. The words 'I Love You' were scribbled across the card. It was the key element in his battle plan. He intended to tell her as loud and as often as possible, every hour of every day, in every way he could imagine. He would say it, write it, show it…sing it if necessary. One way or another she would eventually listen…and believe him!_

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Letting his head fall back against the wall, he scrubbed a hand across his face trying to wipe away the exhausting memories, and with them the furrows of stress now deeply embedded across his brow. They'd been back stateside less than a week, and somehow it felt more like a month. The pace since stepping off the plane had yet to slacken.

Over the ensuing few days, Mac had been briefly admitted, evaluated and released from Bethesda, and was now participating in an outpatient rehab program for her shoulder. As a requisite to her discharge, the surgeon had insisted that she identify a responsible person available to assist her with at home day-to-day care and therapy. Harm had enthusiastically volunteered for the post, over her rather loud and contentious objections. She had finally relented, when the doctor threatened to withhold discharge without full compliance to his prescribed plan.

Between debriefings, hospital visits, therapy sessions and the Navy…funny how he thought that part of his life was over, only to find himself sucked back in. Oh well, that was a thought for another day, another time. Suffice it say, Chegwidden could still surprise the hell out of him. He lifted the grocery sacks from their position on the floor, struggled with her apartment key, and prepared for the next arctic encounter. Who knew wintry blizzards came in the middle of June? And along the Mid-Atlantic Seaboard no less!

Pushing the door open, he expected to meet Harriet's smiling face, but was instead disappointed to find Clay's. He practically dropped his armload at the sight of the spook, only barely managing a less than graceful save. Stumbling toward the kitchen, he failed to notice the small turquoise bag that had slipped away from the rest.

"Webb, what brings you by," he mumbled over the tops of the celery leaves protruding from one of the sacks. "And please don't tell me you're here to recruit me. The Admiral says that all JAG personnel are off limits to the Company from here on out."

Clay followed him into the kitchen, "Just thought I'd stop by to say 'Hi'." When Harm shot him a dubious glare, the spy relented, "I came to check in on Mac…drop off a small bouquet of flowers."

Harm glanced at the 'small' vase containing two dozen yellow long-stemmed roses, and quirked a brow, "That's what you call a 'small' bouquet? What gives, Webb?"

"Don't worry, Harm," Clay pulled a chair up to the bar and watched the taller man unload the groceries. "Say, you certainly know your way around Mac's kitchen," the spook smiled when Harm shot him a warning glare, "…and in case you didn't notice, the roses are yellow…the color of friendship! I got the hint loud and clear back in Paraguay, no poaching on another man's turf. I thought I apologized sufficiently for that already."

"First of all," Harm tossed Clay a bottle of water, "…Mac is her own woman…she's no man's _'turf'_." He pointed a finger at the man, "You are one damned lucky fool that she isn't in here right now making you pay for that remark. Second of all, what makes you think I have any say over who Mac sees or…"

"I'd say the little turquoise box tied up with the cute white ribbon," Clay dangled the gift bag from his finger by the silk cording, "…in the turquoise gift bag marked Tiffany & Co. might have something to do with it."

"Give me that, Webb," Harm lunged for the sack, "…how in the world did you find out?"

"Well," Clay flashed his trademark arrogant grin and held the sack just out of reach, "…I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. Besides, you should know by now, Rabb…I know everything!" The spook cackled with laughter, as he fled the kitchen.

"I guess I best be on my way." Harm followed him through the living room and to the front door. "Hey, tell Mac I said goodbye, and that I hope she's back on the mend soon."

"Where is Mac?" Harm craned his neck, glancing around the living room.

"Uh-huh," Clay grinned, "…headed to her bedroom last I saw. She was muttering something under her breath about needing a bath and a shampoo. I didn't figure you would appreciate me offering to help."

"That's why Harriet was supposed to be here."

"Apparently, she had to cancel."

"Great, just great…now, she'll be in a bad mood all night long," Harm's chin dropped to his chest, as he exhaled loudly. "There go all my plans." Webb just continued to grin like an irritating fool.

"What?!" Harm groused.

Clay extended the Tiffany & Co. gift bag, "What do you care? You got the girl."

Harm snatched up the sack; his facial expression an odd mixture of excitement, anxiety and remorse all rolled up in one. Shaking his head warily, he muttered, "I certainly hope that's true."

"Rabb, she was always yours…you just needed to get over your fears and take the plunge." Clay smacked him on the chest and walked out the door. Turning back, he said more sincerely, "Don't worry so much, Harm. Just tell her how you really feel, and make sure she actually listens…it's not all that hard. Enjoy your spoils, man!" He clapped him hard on the upper arm.

"Don't worry, I will!" Harm yelled after the retreating spook, closing the apartment door behind him.

Clay wandered down the hall muttering under his breath, "Yeah, rub it in, why don't you."

Harm crept across the apartment and tentatively knocked on her bedroom door, "Mac? Mac, are you in there?"

"Go away!"

Sighing, he leaned his forehead against the door, "Sweetheart, you can't stay in there all night. Now, Clay just left, and I brought home the ingredients for one of your favorite meals."

"I'm not hungry," there was a pause, then, "…and stop calling me that!"

"I'm allowed to call you that as a term of endearment, because I love you and…"

"No, you don't!"

"Yes, I do!"

"Go away!"

"Mac, I'm not leaving. Now, Clay said that Harriet wasn't able to come over, so that means no one helped you with your bath…that is unless, Clay helped…"

"He most certainly did not!"

"Good…well, I'm glad to hear it. That means he was kind enough to save it for me," he grinned to himself just imagining the expression on her face.

Her bedroom door swung open, "It will be a cold day in hell, before I allow you to see me in a bathtub…"

"Actually," he struck a pose against the doorframe, arms crossed on his chest, and one foot casually hooked over the other, "…if I remember correctly, I've already seen you in the bathtub covered in a mountain of bubbles. I'd forgotten how beautiful you were at the time, but I promise I'll never make that mistake again."

"Arghhh," she grunted and turned to slam the door, "…why can't you just leave me alone."

He caught the edge of the door and followed her inside, "Look Mac, I have a lovely dinner planned for tonight, and I have no intention of allowing your mood to ruin it. Now, I understand that you've been through a lot, and I know that it's frustrating to need help. I also know that you're in pain and don't particularly like to take your meds. I'm sorry that Harriet didn't make it over this afternoon to assist you with your more intimate and personal hygiene needs, but you cannot lift your left arm above your chest…therefore I'm offering to help."

"And how exactly do you propose to do that?"

"I don't care," he shrugged, "…wear a towel, a bathing suit or your birthday suit. I really don't care." He turned to leave the room, "I'll go run your bath!"

When he came back five minutes later, he found her submerged in the bath and up to her neck in bubbles. He smiled at the memory-inducing image and opened his mouth, "I'd forgotten how beau…"

"Don't start," she glared.

Chuckling, he shook his head, and set a glass of sparkling water at her side. "Thought you might enjoy that, while you're soaking in the tub." He picked up her shower gel and the back scrubber, "Would you like me to wash your back?"

"Harm, I can bathe myself," she barked, then relented and looked away. Glancing back, she chewed her lip, "I'm sorry…I know you're just trying to help. It's just so frustrating and embarrassing." She stared down into the mounds of bubbles then mumbled, "I don't like to ask for help."

He knelt down beside her, "Mac, I don't mind…and I'm here, because I love you."

"Don't," she looked away, but not before he caught the tears sparkling in her eyes.

"Mac," he ran a finger across her glistening shoulder, up her neck and under her chin, rotating her face back to his view. "Sweetheart, why won't you believe me?"

"Because you couldn't say it when…before…" she shook his hand off, "…I don't want to be just another obligation…your latest obsession or fad."

He stared at her incensed, "You think I didn't feel this before?"

"No," her gaze dropped to the water, "…I think you love me like a friend, and I thank you for that."

He stood up and paced angrily to the door, "You think I would resign my commission, throw away my career, and risk my life for just anyone?"

"Not just anyone, but for family and friends," her voice grew softer still, "…yes."

He threw up his hands, "You're wrong, Mac! You're just wrong! I'm sorry that I didn't admit it when you first asked me. You don't think I go back and relive that moment every minute of every hour of every day in my mind? Do you think that I don't wonder about the 'what if's'? What if I'd only answered you honestly at that moment…maybe we wouldn't have fought…maybe you wouldn't have left…maybe Sadik wouldn't have abducted you…and maybe I wouldn't be grasping at straws right now for some way to prove to you how much I have loved you for the last several years!"

She watched him turn and stalk out of the room. She sat there in the quiet of her bathroom listening for any sounds of him. There was nothing, no noise at all, save for the popping of bubbles. Tears burned hot in her eyes, streamed in torrents down her cheeks. She glanced around the room, realizing she was stuck in the bathtub and just as she was about to give up, he reappeared. He dropped on the floor beside her, never uttered a word, only offered up his hand in support. They sat there for several minutes, hands intertwined, heart rates finally slowed, breathing as one.

With a deep reluctant sigh, he finally whispered, "Will you give me one more chance to explain?"

She nodded her head uneasily, but didn't speak.

"When I heard that you had gone missing, I went to the Admiral and requested to go after you. He denied both my requests for TAD and emergency leave. I knew I couldn't live with myself, if I didn't at least try to bring you back, so I resigned my commission. As I was leaving AJ's office, he asked me, if I was successful and brought you home, what I would be willing to risk to keep you. At that moment in his office, I told him I didn't know…that I hadn't thought it through."

She started to pull her hand away, but he held firm. Her voice cracked with tears as she spoke, "I don't see how that changes things. In fact, it just proves my point."

"It's true, I hadn't thought through all the consequences of my actions at that exact moment. I tend to act first, when the people I love are threatened, and worry about the consequences later. I think you were the first person to point that out." He squeezed her hand and smiled, "Does the statement: 'You're being ruled by your emotions, and those emotions are going to get us killed,' ring any bells?"

She hopelessly shook her head, "The prior act goes toward pattern, thus proof of evidence. You were trying to save your father then."

The fingers of his left hand began to nervously fidget, rubbing and crinkling the paper in his hand, "Yes, but I didn't buy my father a ring before I left for Russia."

"What?!" Stunned, she whipped her face around toward him.

He held up the receipt in his hand, "I told AJ I hadn't thought it through in his office, but that didn't mean I hadn't thought it through long and hard before I left. All I knew was that we'd already wasted too much time, and I didn't want to risk ever losing you again, so I made a purchase before I left for Paraguay. Because I wanted this 'particular item' appropriately sized and engraved, I wasn't actually able to take it with me. In fact, due to some personalized specialty requests, it wasn't fully completed and available for pick-up until today."

He carefully unfolded the receipt and rotated the paper toward her, allowing only the date to come into view. "Now, just so that we're both perfectly clear, I want you to carefully note the original date of sale of this particular item."

She glanced at the receipt and tears flooded her eyes.

"If you will, Counselor…could you please be so kind as to read the date aloud for the court," his voice held a note of teasing.

"Let the record show," she giggled with giddy tearful joy, "…that the purchase was made on May 20th, of the year 2003."

"And Counselor, was this date before or after the defendant is purported to have left the country on a recovery mission to Paraguay to rescue the love of his life?"

"Let the record show that the date in question was before this brave man traveled 5,000 miles and damn near got himself killed just to find me," she sniffed back tears. "But I have a question of my own to ask this brave man, sir."

"And what would that be, Counselor?" He caressed away the tears on her cheek.

"Just what might this purchase be that proves beyond a shadow of a doooubt…" her words traveled off, as she kissed the upturned palm of the hand caressing her cheek.

He held up a small turquoise box adorned with a tiny white bow, and she reflexively gasped. He released the ribbon and pulled the top aside to reveal an exquisite diamond engagement ring, as unique and eternal as their love.

"Mac," taking the ring from the box, he placed it onto the end of her finger, "…look, I guarantee there'll be tough times. I guarantee that at some point, one or both of us is gonna want to get out of this thing. But I also guarantee that if I don't ask you to be mine, I'll regret it for the rest of my life, because I know, in my heart, you're the only one for me. What do you say, will you marry me?"

"Yes," she nodded, barely able to speak. He slid the ring on her finger.

"So tell me, am I now allowed to tell you that…_'I love you'_?"

"Yes," she hiccupped in reply.

"And will you tell me back?" He asked a bit tentative and unsure.

"Oh yes," she tried to slide her injured arm around his neck. "Ouch! Damn it!"

He pulled back laughing, "That's how you tell a guy who has just proposed to you, that you love him…Jeez Mackenzie, you're kind of a hard sell!"

That had her laughing and crying and hiccupping all at the same time. He took advantage of the situation and stood up to shed his clothes.

Her eyes grew wide, "Wha-Wha-What are you doing?"

"Well, I made you a promise about the next time I found you in a bathtub covered in bubbles," his shirt hit the floor.

"And just…when…was this," she hiccupped between happy tears.

"In the hospital," he toed off his shoes and socks, "…although in the interest of honesty, you were unconscious at the time."

Her eyebrows disappeared into her hair, "And just what…" she trailed off mid-sentence when he dropped into the tub behind her, khaki shorts and all.

"The actual specifics of that fantasy will have to wait until you're a little more up to the challenge," he waggled his brow, then flashed an impish grin. "Now about that shampoo," he pulled her back against his chest and cupping his hand, drizzled water over her hair.

She leaned her head back further, closing her eyes and enjoying his ministrations. The water trailed in tiny rivulets down her tanned perfect skin. He brushed the hair away from her face, tenderly wiping the droplets from her eyes, then stopped and just stared in awe.

"Harm?" Concerned with his silence, she opened her eyes to question, but was immediately swallowed up in the bottomless blue-grey depths of his.

"My gosh," he reverently uttered on the softest breath of air, "…you are so beautiful."

Tears flooded her eyes. "I love you, too," she tenderly stroked his cheek, just before his lips finally caressed hers.

_~ fin ~_

_**xxxxxxxxxxx XXXXX xxxxxxxxxx**_

_**A/N:**__ Additional utilized challenge movie prompts._

_Wyly King: "You know you were lucky to get her the first time."_

_Eddie Bichon: "It was a damn miracle."_

_(From 'Something to Talk About')_

_ ***  
_

_Riker: "You think it's possible for two people to go back in time, undo a mistake they've made?"_

_Troi: "Anything's possible..." _

_(From 'Star Trek: Insurrection')_

_ ***  
_

_Birdie Pruitt: You know, I always thought I was gonna be, I don't know, special. But I'm not. I'm just... I'm just an ordinary person. And that's OK. Because... you make me special. Don't you know that? Don't you know that you're everything in this world to me? And we're gonna make it through this because we are a team. ... So don't you ever think about leaving me again... because I need you. I love you._

_(From 'Hope Floats')_

_ ***  
_

_Riley Poole: What do you care? You got the girl._

_Abigail Chase, Ben Gates: That's true._

_[Ben and Abigail kiss]_

_Riley Poole: Yeah, rub it in._

_[He turns and walks away]_

_Riley Poole: Enjoy your spoils._

_(From 'National Treasure')_

_ ***  
_

_Ike Graham: [on the perfect proposal] Look, I guarantee there'll be tough times. I guarantee that at some point, one or both of us is gonna want to get out of this thing. But I also guarantee that if I don't ask you to be mine, I'll regret it for the rest of my life, because I know, in my heart, you're the only one for me._

_(From 'Runaway Bride')_


End file.
